


Venatic (Sequel to Malediction)

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Orgy, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Sequel, Threesome, Unsafe Sex, Vampires, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-09
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Malediction was Season 1 of Queer as Folk with a vampire twist; this is Season 2 (going into 3 in later chapters)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"Wake up, Justin."

The voice reached him, but it was far away - so endlessly far that it sounded like it was coming out of another world...from up there. Maybe there was light up there, he mused. Up - swim up, he told himself, wanting to groan with the effort, but there was no air to breathe. It was like swimming from the pit of the ocean, the weight of miles of water pressing down on him, and it was so dark down here, and he was so fucking...

"Justin."

...hungry he couldn't think. Couldn't remember how he'd ended up in this predicament, only that... _"It's just a stupid dream. Doesn't mean anything."_ ...he wanted to get to the surface, where he knew he'd find light, and air to breathe, and sustenance. Brian. He felt a hand touch his face, the warmth feeling almost scalding against his icy skin, and he wondered at how cold he was, but he couldn't remember why. Gentle fingers touched his lips and parted them, opening his mouth, and he vaguely remembered the same thing happening - when? Last night? And the night before that too, and the one before and the one before, and he remembered thinking the touch felt _"...ridiculously romantic."_ like Brian's, but what was Brian doing down here?

Something warm and heavy splashed against his mouth, seeped past his teeth, and he tasted salty copper and iron; swallowed. He realized there was something pressing against his lips and reached up out of the darkness to grasp a hand, to press leaking skin against his mouth; skin leaking - food. Brian. He sucked and swallowed like a nursing infant, his grip on the hand near his face slowly strengthening as warmth flooded him, making his fingers and toes tingle almost painfully; making him hard. He felt fingers slide through his hair and presently the hand - strangely cool now against his own warm skin - slid out of his grasp easily, and he tried to reach for it, but it was too dark to see.

He felt lips touch his forehead, a whispered breath caress his ear. "Sleep now, Justin. I'll be back tomorrow."

A blanket was pulled upward and he felt it settle around his shoulders, gentle hands giving them a final pat before he heard quiet footsteps retreating. He felt himself sink and the darkness rise up again to reclaim him, but it was alright. He was safe now, and warm, sated and incredibly tired. Nothing mattered, and he smiled softly as he drifted down. _"It's the best night of my life..."_

 

*****

 

Justin stared at the doctors assembled around his hospital bed in confusion, studying each of the four faces in succession before he turned to his mother, who was perched on the mattress beside him, holding his icy-cold hand in both her warm ones. "I was bashed in the head with a bat? Why don't I remember? When? Why?"

"What's the last thing you can remember, Mr. Taylor?"

Justin closed his eyes and shook his head, his thoughts bouncing back and forth between the shock of revelation and the dark void just behind it, shadows of recollection that were vaulted, locked and inacessible. His mind reeled with questions and the feeling that the answer was just at the tip of his tongue. _Thumping bass. Blue strobe lights flashing briefly over Brian's sardonic smirk ... "Do you want to come to my prom with me?"_

"Where's Brian?" He asked suddenly. "Why--"

Jennifer stroked his hand reassuringly. "Justin...Sweetheart--"

"Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Jennifer said softly.

Justin pulled his hand out of her grasp and flopped back on the pillow, closing his eyes and briefly touching the bandage taped to his forehead. He'd been unconcious for two weeks, they'd told him. They'd told him a lot of things in the last half hour he was too overwhelmed to process at the moment, and he had the nagging suspicion they hadn't even told him the half of it. His head ached. The sunlight flooding the room was glaringly bright, and voices and sounds seemed to assault his ears at an incredibly amplified level. He couldn't think, couldn't even breathe, not with the air of the room so cloyingly hot and - dense, salty-sweet, the smell of bodies almost like he remembered from the crush on the dancefloor at Babylon, mixed in with other things, chemical things. He couldn't remember, wanted to see Brian. Brian would know what was going on and could tell him... _"Are you out of your mind? Go ask some girl."_

His mother's voice, gentle, calming. "Justin..."

"Leave me alone," he whispered. "Just leave me alone, get out."

 

*****

 

Heavy darkness again, but the struggle to go upward was easier this time, upward toward...

"Brian," he said into the darkness.

"I'm here, Justin."

Warm flesh against his cold lips again, warmth turning liquid and filling his mouth, his throat. He swallowed blindly, greedily, not caring, he was so damned hungry. And it was Brian...

"No," he groaned when the cool hand he was gripping was pulled away, "don't go. I can never--"

"Shhh, Justin. I'll be back tomorrow."

"I can never remember you were here."

"No. You won't. If you do you'll think it was a dream, but I'll be back."

"Brian--"

"Hush...sleep now."

Then he was gone and Justin let the warm darkness pull him in, until the sunlight of the next day pierced his eyes again, dispersing a vague recollection of Brian as easily as a mist.  



	2. Chapter 2

"It's not your fault," Justin said. Brian heard his soft footsteps coming up from behind, the only sound in the quiet loft where he'd brought Justin after recovering from the shock of seeing him appear at Woody's so suddenly, and in such a state, cowered in a corner, facing the wall. Only turning when he heard Michael's voice behind him, and then meeting Brian's stare with pupils that were dilated with fear and confusion. Impressions had rushed Brian's mind in an instant, things he'd conciously blocked out; Justin's terror while searching for him alone on Liberty Avenue, his confusion at being overwhelmed by everything that was once familiar. Now the bright lights on the Avenue had seemed blinding, the usual sounds deafening, and smells he'd never noticed before had made him faint. When a young man had touched his arm and asked if he was alright, Justin had jerked back and snapped at him, shocked into anger by a sudden and almost uncontrollable impulse to overwhelm him and sink his teeth into the kid's throat. Brian froze as Justin's panic seized at his own heart and his mind was flooded with the questions storming behind Justin's eyes. Why? What's happening? Why me? Where were you? Brian had only moved when he heard Michael's question, the tone angry and accusing, asking him if he was just going to stand there.

"It's not your fault," Justin repeated now, coming around to look into Brian's face.

It was meant to be reassuring and Brian knew Justin was entirely convinced that none of this was his fault. But he felt the words pelt against his paralyzed shell and slide down and off, while his eyes searched Justin's, looking for some hint of doubt, some vague suspicion he could latch onto and utilize to make Justin realize he didn't understand a thing. But all he saw was guileless trust and concern for him, as if this terrible thing had happened to him and not Justin, as if the bashing at the prom and the resulting injuries were all that had happened, and none of this had anything to do with him. He hugged Justin back stiffly, allowing himself the luxury of a brief moment of comfort.

"Justin," he said, pulling back carefully. "There's something you need to know, in fact a lot of shit you need to know."

Justin looked at him for a long moment, his face blank. Then he said, "I'm like you now, aren't I?"

Fuck. Brian closed his eyes briefly and nodded. Justin's eyes stayed fixed on his face, still expressionless. When he began to sway and reel backwards, Brian caught his arm and, putting one arm around his waist, led him to the couch, where they both landed heavily. Justin pulled away, burying his face in both hands.

"Justin, I realize--"

"Fuck, Brian!" he spat. "What? And you also realize you never once came to see me? To explain? You just turned me into a --" he waved both hands helplessly, "--a fucking...vampire and just left me to deal with it alone? I mean, what the fuck?"

"It's not the way you expected it to be, is it?"

"And you knew that? You knew and you--"

Brian raised his voice, cutting him off. "I was there, Justin. Every single night. You don't remember because I didn't let you remember, but I was there." He leaned closer and softly touched Justin's face, letting his wrist graze his lips for a moment. "Who do you think kept you fed?"

Brian watched the color drain from Justin's already pale face as the haze lifted and memories of the nightly visits seeped into his conciousness, along with the realization of what he'd been doing, what Brian meant when he said he'd kept him fed. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why didn't you let me remember?"

"You didn't remember the first weeks because you were in a coma, as they told me. Then it was too risky. I couldn't risk you talking in your sleep or slipping up and cluing the doctors in, or the nurses. Shit, Justin, it was risky as hell getting to you long enough as it was, and making sure nobody noticed or suspected." He took a deep breath, dragging a hand through his hair, calming himself. "Listen...are you listening? Nobody, and I mean nobody, can find out about this. Not your mother, not Deb, not Daphne, not anyone - it's imperative. You don't tell a soul."

Justin snorted. "Who would believe it?"

"I mean it. Nobody."

"Okay, okay. Alright already."

"And there are other things. It's going to be a bit much, but I have to tell you now. Most importantly you have to feed, or you'll starve."

"You mean I have to drink blood?"

"What did you think? You could be like me and survive on the Pink Plate Special? Hmpf!" Brian watched Justin's face sink into his hands again and relented, knowing this was enough of a shock without added sarcasm. He softened his voice and reached out to rub Justin's back reassuringly. "I'll help you with all that, don't worry about it. And in case you're wondering, you can still eat normal food, but it won't do anything for you. Nothing. So...you really didn't take all of this into consideration when you told me you wanted to be like me, did you?"

Justin raised his face and Brian could see wetness around his eyes. "I just didn't expect it to be so..."

"What? Intense? Overwhelming? Yeah it is, at first. You get used to it. Your eyesight, your hearing, all your senses have sharpened so much you'll think you were deaf, dumb and blind before, in comparison." Brian grinned. "And wait until you find out about all the other stuff. It'll blow you away. Just remember to keep it all in check unless we're alone. Like I said, don't let anyone else ever suspect a thing, no matter what."

"What if they do?"

Brian's laugh was humorless. "Imagine being locked up in a loony bin or wherever the fuck, and then finding out that's the least of your troubles. Okay? And another thing - like I said, you have to feed. But you can't kill them doing it, you have to be careful."

Justin made a face. "Jesus, Brian...."

Brian ignored him. "I'll help you, but just be careful. You don't want to do anything to arouse suspicion or draw attention to us. And be careful about where you do it and when. If you're around people you might have this irrisistable urge to attack. You've already had that happen, haven't you? Okay. Resist it. Just get the fuck away from them. Don't let anyone find out."

"Brian for Christ's sake, why not tell me that twenty more times?" Justin huffed and slumped back on the couch. "So, what? Am I dead now? Undead? What am I?"

"We'll get to all the details eventually, as we go along. What do you think you are?"

Justin's eyes slid sideways, glancing at Brian. "Fucking hungry. That's what I am."

Brian laughed. He reached for the fastening of the cowrie-shell bracelet circling his wrist, covering the fading gash underneath. "I thought so. That I can do something about."  



	3. Chapter 3

**** Part Three

 

"I can't."

Justin pushed Brian away and crawled to the opposite side of the bed, taking him completely by surprise. Not only because he'd never refused Brian before, but also with the strength and speed in which he'd extricated himself and moved out of reach. Brian took a deep breath and held it, raking his fingers through his hair. Shit. Get a grip. Get a grip. His dick was so hard it hurt, and he breathed in and out several times, trying to squelch the infuriating frustration that rose up to burn in his chest. Later he would accuse himself, adding to his growing heap of inner guilt and self-blame, knowing he'd ignored the signals that Justin's participation was more coerced than voluntary. But now he gritted his teeth against the impulse to drag Justin back, pin him to the mattress and take him by force, an instinct similar to the one he'd often felt when he was ravenous and there were humans around and yet no seclusion in which to still his hunger. Long practice had taught him to supress his instincts though, almost as easily as holding his breath. Instead he moved to where Justin sat, naked and dejected, and his brief touch to a slumped shoulder was gentle.

"It's okay," Brian said.

"It's _not_ okay," Justin insisted angrily.

Brian waited. Several minutes passed before Justin reached for the pair of shorts lying crumpled on the floor and pulled them on, refusing to look at Brian.

Brian sighed. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know," Justin said irritably. "I don't know. I don't fucking know anything, I don't remember anything, I can't sort it out. I can't stand this." He glanced at Brian. "Sometimes I wish you'd just let me die."

"Fuck you." Brian stood up abruptly and left the bedroom, snatching the ever-present bottle of Beam from the coffee table on his way to the kitchen and unscrewing it. He swallowed straight from the bottle, hearing the soft pat-pat of Justin's bare feet on the hardwood as he followed behind him.

"I'm sorry," Justin said, but Brian kept his back turned to him and Justin made no move to close the distance between them.

"Stop saying that," Brian snapped. The feeling of helplessness aggravated the hell out of him. He'd agreed to take Justin in, to practically shelter him at the loft, keep him fed and let him hide from the rest of the world, but he also knew it was a temporary solution that wouldn't help matters in the long run. Something had to give, he thought.

"Justin," he said slowly, "you know, sooner or later you're going to have to come to terms with this. With what you are now and what you have to do. I can't feed for two and be your wet-nurse forever, you know. And I can't change it back."

Justin moved closer when he turned to face him, but still kept his distance. "Would you if you could?"

Brian closed his eyes. "Justin..."

Another step. "Would you? If you could?"

"What's the point?" Brian asked irritably. "What difference does it make?"

Justin froze for a moment, then huffed sofly and turned to pad back to the bed. "Yeah. Right. What difference does it make?"

 

*****

 

At first he couldn't discern a reason for it. Standing just behind where Brian was seated on the porch and sheltered by the doorway, Justin watched the scene on the lawn before them; Melanie, Lindsay and Gus, unwrapping gifts, the last of which had been a small yellow baseball bat, a child's plaything, completely innocuous. He watched it being waved back and forth as Gus grabbed for it with the pudgy hands of a one-year-old, and felt his stomach heave and his skin go slick with cold sweat.

The parking garage. Something about --

He clutched at the tail end of a dark memory before it eluded him, and the images turned to attack his mind with a sudden fury, as if he'd grabbed hold of the tail of a wild beast.

\-- walking away from the jeep, elated, hardly aware of the sound of a footstep just behind him. The sound of the car door being flung open and Brian's panicked voice, calling his name. It had startled him and happened so suddenly that his smile hadn't had time to disappear when he turned and saw --

He blinked in the sunlight flooding the porch and Brian glanced back at him, rising to his feet when he saw the expression on his face, saw his posture go rigid with shock. "Justin..."

\-- _"Justin!"_ A bat? A baseball bat, raised up and then swinging down and toward him with incredible speed, yet slow enough that he felt his heart seize and turn to ice in a fraction of a second. Then - nothing. Darkness slammed into his conciousness, soundless, and the ground beneath his feet was yanked away as he fell into a bottomless void where there was nothing, nothing at all.

 

*****

 

Brian moving around the loft and turning out the lights woke him hours after their return home. They hadn't talked about it; it wasn't necessary. Brian knew, and, sheltering him from the curious looks of the party guests on the lawn by putting strong arms around him, guided his blind footsteps in the direction of the jeep. Slumped in the passenger seat, Justin was quiet, hands cramped and wrung together in his lap while he stared ahead with a fixed gaze. The scene in the parking garage, a matter of seconds, replayed itself in his mind again and again. When Brian had parked in front of the building he'd barely been aware of it, and Brian had to come around and take his arm to pull him out of the vehicle and lead him to the elevator, and then into the loft itself.

He'd realized his face was wet with tears when Brian sat him down on the bed and wiped at his cheeks with careful thumbs, and wondered when he'd been crying. Then his stomach lurched again and he pushed Brian back, stumbling into the bathroom, where he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, shuddering with dry heaves that wracked his empty stomach. When the spasms abated, leaving him gasping, Brian was there again, pulling him up and leading him to the bed, drawing off his jeans after he'd fallen on the mattress, exhausted. He curled up on his side, vaguely aware of Brian watching him uncertainly. Then the mattress dipped as Brian joined him, curving against his back and putting an arm around him, breath warm and comforting against the back of his neck. No words were spoken, and even Justin's tears were silent as he cried himself to sleep.

Now Brian paused in the doorway, regarding Justin, who gazed back, blinking sleepily. "Better now?"

Justin nodded. "Uh-huh."

Brian sighed and walked over to sit next to him. "You really freaked me out."

"You?" Justin said. He laughed softly.

Brian dragged his hand through his hair and said, "It was like you got hit...all over again."

"I remembered walking away and suddenly hearing your voice call my name. To warn me. You never told me about that. You tried to save me."

"I guess I forgot."

Justin moved closer to Brian. "It's a good thing one of us remembered."

Neither one of them laughed at the quip, instead Justin leaned forward to kiss Brian, his mouth soft and reassuring. When he put his hands on Brian's chest, his fingers touched a sleek material and he gave it a tug, pulling out a length of white silk that was stained and darkened in large splotches with something that looked purplish-black in the blue glow of the lamp over the bed. The scarf, Justin realized; the scarf he'd worn at the prom, stained with his blood, the last and final reminder of his human mortality. He looked back at Brian, who turned away, looking almost embarrassed and irritated that it had been discovered. But Justin's face remained impassive as he reached over the side of the bed, letting Brian's guilty secret drop from his hand and fall to the floor in a fluid whisper of silk.

"I want you inside me," he said softly.

"Are you sure?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah. Just...take it easy."

"Like the first time."

Justin smiled briefly. The first time. It seemed like another life. It was another life. He pushed Brian's shirt down, revealing smooth shoulders, and leaned forward to kiss inviting lips, caressing the bottom one with his tongue, careful not to push in when he reached one of the sharp incisors, drawing back when he felt a response. He suddenly felt awkward, self-concious, aware that, in its own way, this really was the first time. But he was sure he wanted to do this, much more sure, he thought as he slid his shorts down, than he'd been the night Brian had first spotted him on Liberty Avenue.

He moved toward Brian, feeling the heat radiating from his skin draw him in even before Brian's arms closed around him, pulling him close, hands sliding up his back and curving around to either side of his face, mouth covering his as he was lowered to the mattress. Justin's lips opened, letting Brian's tongue inside. He was suddenly aware that he was trembling with nervous tension, as if he'd never been touched like this before, as if his body wanted to shy away from the touch of Brian's hands and the weight of his body, the warmth of flesh against his own. At the same time he pressed closer, returning the kiss and letting his hands travel over defined arms, back and shoulders, his touch heavy, fingers splayed as if to grasp as much as he could at once. He felt like a starved wild animal being offered food, torn between an irrisistible craving and the instinct to cringe away from the hand that offered fulfillment. Brian sensed his conflict and held back, keeping himself in check, his kisses unhurried, his touch soft and calming, fingers in Justin's hair, thumbs gently stroking back and forth over his cheekbones and temples.

Justin slowly relaxed into Brian's touch, into the familiar taste and scent, and the reassuring warmth of the hands traveling over his skin, down his chest and stomach, sliding around to grip his hips and pull him even closer. Justin moaned softly as he felt the heat of Brian's hard cock move against his own, and persistent lips left his to kiss and suck on the soft skin of his neck and throat. He let his hands trail upward again, fingertips playing with Justin's taut nipples, nuzzling at an ear and using his tongue to trace the shell. Justin felt his breath deepen and blood rush to the surface just under his skin, making his nerve endings buzz with heat and sensitivity as his body began to respond to the increasing stimulation. It was like thawing out after coming in from an ice storm, he thought to himself. Or like coming back to life.

Brian's hands closed around Justin's shoulders and applied pressure, holding him flat on his back. Brian's lips moved downward, stopping to close over a nipple and suck it into the wet heat of his mouth, tongue flicking over the tip. Teeth grazed at the hardening flesh and Justin gasped, jerking at the sensation, but he was again pressed down by strong hands and the weight of Brian's chest and stomach, forcing him to be still as soft lips moved further down.

Justin felt his body begin to hum with tension as a wet tongue circled his navel, hands and exploring fingers following the downward path of Brian's mouth to softly pinch and roll Justin's nipples. He became aware that he was gasping and making sounds in the back of his throat as he tried to wriggle upwards to bring his cock closer to the vicinity of Brian's teasing mouth, his fingers gripping Brian's arms for leverage, but firm hands circled his waist and pullled him back down suddenly. Justin moaned with both frustration and pleasure as Brian kissed him on the mouth again, tongue seeking his own and then withdrawing to cover his face with soft kisses.

Brian moved downward and Justin felt hands grasp him around the waist again as he arched his back, feeling a hot tongue move around the head of his cock, slow and tormenting, leaving a wet trail of saliva and pre-come. Brian's hands trailed down his belly and moved to his legs, palms flattening against the insides of his thighs and moving them apart with gentle pressure, the tickling caress of lips replacing hands when he complied. Justin squeezed his eyes shut, only half aware of his pleading moans, not caring. His breath left him in a single rush as he was swallowed all at once, felt pliant wetness slide downward and pull back again, and the suctioning pressure spiral upward until it seemed to tug at his nipples. His fingers gripped the sheets as the torment went on. He wanted to writhe, unable to hold still, but powerful hands gripped him again and prevented him from moving. He wanted to tell Brian to go faster, wanted to come, but he could only moan incoherently, all clear thought vacating his mind. There was only this.

Then, just as suddenly, the sensations stopped, leaving him gasping for breath. He felt Brian move to lie behind him, and then an arm moved around him, drawing him back to press against a warm chest and stomach. Soft lips nestled against his neck and caressed his ears, letting him recover from the pleasurable onslaught. His mind whirled and his skin burned; his lips felt swollen as he pulled Brian's hand up, sucking at the elegant fingers, wanting some part of the beloved body inside him any way he could. The snapping sounds of a tube being pried open and then closed reached his ears, and then he felt the cold wetness of lube and the warmth of Brian's fingertips, first caressing and then prodding gently. Justin arched his back, pushing toward the welcome invasion, finding his body seemed to have a memory of its own, allowing access easily. He drifted on the sensation of Brian's fingers inside him, pushing in and moving back, finally withdrawing completely. When he felt the blunt head of a hard cock start to enter him, however, he tensed, suddenly snapping back to reality.

"Shhh," Brian whispered. He nuzzled the back of Justin's neck reassuringly.

"Condom?" Justin gasped.

"Don't need them. Silly."

Justin's breath caught and he half turned to look into Brian's smiling face. "Oh my god - Brian! I --"

"Forget already?"

Justin settled back, feeling laughter bubbling up inside him. He really had forgotten; there was nothing in the world to be afraid of, he wasn't part of it anymore. He was safe, safe from diseases, safe from hateful men with instruments of death. Because of what Brian had done, he realized.

Brian's hands were stroking him, lips soft against his ear. "This isn't going to work if you keep laughing, you know. Just relax."

Justin did, and then he felt Brian pushing into him easily, almost at once, the heat and incredible friction making him gasp and then sigh with pleasure as he felt Brian's body curve against his own, one hand on his hip, moving inside him slowly, drawing it out. Brian's hand left his hip as he pressed forward, his fingers stroking damp tendrils of hair from Justin's forehead, and Justin leaned his face into the soft touch, then turned to kiss Brian's mouth, reaching up to twine their fingers. You did save me, he thought, I love you. He heard Brian whisper his name against his mouth and pressed back, moving with him, sliding his hand to the back of Brian's neck when he felt him kiss and lick at his throat.

The kisses turned to soft nips and Brian's hand curved around Justin's face, urging his head back and exposing his throat. He groaned, feeling sharp teeth pierce the vein and the slight stinging draw in his neck as the wounds were sucked at gently. His grip on Brian's arm tightened and his lips sought the pulse in the wrist and, finding it, he sank his teeth in deeply. He withdrew and instantly felt blood, heavy and salty-metallic, bubble into his mouth and sucked greedily. Brian's arm clamped around Justin's chest, holding him firmly as he probed at the punctures in his throat with his tongue, thrusting into him almost roughly now, both of them moaning and caught up in an ecstatic frenzy, each almost drunk on the blood of the other.

Justin gasped between swallows, feeling his heart staggering in his chest. He felt Brian's cock moving inside him faster, Brian tensing against him as his grip became almost painfully tight, thrusting more shallowly now and hitting his prostate each time, speeding him to the edge faster and faster. And yet, even when he'd come in the past, Justin couldn't remember feelings this all-consuming, so intense that, he thought for a moment, if there was anything left that could possibly kill him, then surely this was it. He tore his mouth from Brian's wrist, oblivious to the crimson splash of blood that hit his neck and chest before the punctures closed on their own. He froze and then jerked against Brian, coming in an explosive rush at the same time he felt Brian groan against his neck, and the red stains on his skin were splashed with white as he shuddered again and again, feeling as if it would never end.

TBC  



	4. Chapter 4

**** Part Four

 

The setting sun bathed the loft in a golden-orange light, softening hard lines and reflecting off the gleaming hardwood floor in the color of incandescent warmth, but Justin shivered, tugging at the sweat-dampened sheets until he was almost buried underneath them. Bolting upright in the middle of yet another nightmare, he'd woken to find the loft empty and silent, though his sharp senses picked up Brian's faint scent and a hot mist still lingering in the vicinity of the shower stall. He guessed he'd been alone for about an hour, maybe less. He sighed, taking comfort in the smell of sandalwood soap, mint and cigarette smoke that wafted around the loft elusively, hoping Brian would be back soon. Fucking nightmares, he thought. Fucking Hobbs. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering when it would end. When he slept, sleep was much deeper than he remembered it being before, and dreams much more intense, vivid and almost tangible, holding him captive behind their vaporous walls until he clawed his way out, screaming in terror. It often took him a while to realize the hands on him were Brian's and not demon-hands pulling him down into a bottomless black, and that it was Brian's voice in his ear, whispering his name and not shouting it in a panic that echoed between slabs of cold concrete.

He took another deep breath and kicked off the covers, streched and slowly got out of bed. His eyes surveyed the loft and searched the dark corners, reassured by the normalcy and reality of it all as he made his way to the kitchen, extricating a little more of his mind from the cobweb fingers of the nightmare with each step. The handle of the refrigerator was cool and solidly real in his hand as he pulled the door open. Cold, sterile light inside revealed an assortment of bottles, a jar of jelly and half a loaf of bread. Justin picked it up, feeling his stomach growl, then tossed it back listlessly, knowing it wouldn't assuage the pangs any more than a glass of plain water would. Where was Brian?

He slammed the refrigerator door shut and started to pace back and forth, raking a hand through his hair and feeling the scar on his forehead, just a faint nub under his fingertips. It wasn't right, he thought, wasn't fair that the lesions in his mind that the bashing had left were still wide open, gaping clefts that gave all kinds of terrors free passage, day or night. Usually Brian was there, reassuring and supportive, and it made all the difference. But how long would Brian be patient, he wondered. And how long would Brian put up with him hiding away at the loft where it was quiet and dark, scuttling for cover like a hermit crab and completely overwhelmed by the world outside and the realities of his new existence. Forever? Justin barked out a laugh. How long was forever?

It wasn't just the bashing, Justin knew, although he'd let the doctors believe that. Everything was the same as before and yet completely different because it was so much _more_ that it overpowered his senses and his mind reeled trying to assimilate the sights, sounds and smells that he'd never been aware of before, and that were now so violently acute. They seemed to bypass that part of him that he knew, the part of him that felt kindness and took pity on the weak, that could discern right from wrong and act accordingly, to hone on a part of him he'd never known before. A part that terrified him, a monster, he thought. What else but a monster would want to overpower the people he came across, and want to sink its teeth into the soft pulse of their throats? Or be lured by hearing the beat of their hearts and the smell of their blood? Brian had explained this to him, calling it an instinct, a reflex he'd soon learn to control and master, just as he had. But Justin couldn't imagine, not in his wildest dreams, that Brian had ever spent weeks in fearful seclusion, or depended on anyone to keep him fed, cowed at the prospect of having to hunt for himself. Like some scared little faggot, Justin thought to himself angrily as he prowled through the loft, frustrated and helpless. Hungry and condemned to wait.

But he didn't know; Brian hadn't told him much at all, considering how much there probably was to tell. Not that he'd asked, but fuck it, he wasn't even sure about the questions. You'll have to come to terms with it, Brian had said. Justin hoped he'd be back soon; if Brian were around now, he'd shake him and ask him, how? Tell me how and I'll do it. But he wasn't; even his lingering scent was fading, and seemed to be taking the air to breathe along with it.

Justin leaned against one of the pillars and bunched up the front of his T-shirt, bringing the thin cotton to his nose. Brian's scent was imprinted on it, and though it calmed him, his eyes stung and his vision blurred. He blinked rapidly. It's just being hungry, he thought, people freak when they get too hungry, nothing to get upset about. Brian would know; he'd be back soon.

Justin spun around, startled by a knock at the loft door. It was followed by a voice calling Brian's name, muffled by the heavy steel, then another knock. Michael, he thought, fucking great...on the other hand... He backed up slowly, his feet knowing where to step up to climb the stairs to the bedroom by rote, eyes fixed on the door as he watched it slowly slide back. He'd slipped behind one of the panels that half hid the area from view by the time Michael entered the loft hesitantly, eyes searching the open space.

Justin felt perspiration bead on his forehead as Michael's nasal bleating resonated in his ears. "Brian? Brian, where are you? You were supposed to meet me; why didn't you call?"

Justin closed his eyes briefly, snapping them open when he heard Michael's frustrated sigh and the soft "sshh" of rubber-soled feet on the floor, making a turn to walk back out.

"Michael," he said, stepping into view and seeming to have appeared out of thin air.

"Jesus, Justin," Michael huffed. "You scared the shit out of me. Didn't you hear me knocking? Why didn't you answer?"

Justin slowly descended the steps leading to the loft's main area. "Why does everything you say sound like a fucking accusation, Michael? I heard you, I didn't feel like answering. So I didn't."

"So where's Brian? He was supposed to meet me an hour ago for the comic book convention."

"Dunno. Maybe something came up?"

Justin watched Michael wince at the barb as he proceeded forward in a slow half-circle. Even from a distance he could smell growing discomfort and nervous apprehension spike the blood coursing under Michael's pale skin, along with traces of oregano, basil and sweet red wine. He felt his stomach claw at itself and growl like an angry cat. Keeping his gaze riveted to Michael's eyes, he came to a halt between him and the half-open loft door, the air wafting in from the hallway feeling like a cold fist nudging at the small of his back. He swallowed, a sudden excess of saliva flooding his mouth.

Michael blinked. "Justin? What's the matter? Are you on something?"

Justin didn't reply, fascinated by the way Michael seemed to be falling into a daze, the rise and fall of his eyelids gradually slowing as the brown irises underneath glazed and clouded over as he proceeded forward, step by cautious step. Finally, he stood close enough to feel Michael's breath graze his collarbone, but the man didn't move - seemed unable to move, just as he seemed to be incapable of tearing his gaze from Justin's.

Interesting. Justin smiled, allowing his lips to widen enough to let the sharp incisors flash into view. "You okay, Michael?"

"Huh?"

Hesitantly, Justin grasped Michael's waist with both hands, and when this failed to produce a discernible reaction, he felt a burst of confidence grow alongside the desperate hunger, both together making him dizzy with a kind of frantic euphoria that was almost intoxicating. He could actually do this! He pulled Michael closer, one arm around his waist, the other snaking up to grasp him by the hair. Letting his lips graze Michael's throat and travel over the large vein nestled just under the skin, Justin darted his tongue briefly, seeking out the pulse. He felt Michael tense and heard a strangled groan a split second before long fingers wound in his own hair like bands of steel and yanked his head back. He gasped, startled by the interruption, and by Brian's voice just next to his ear.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian whispered.

"Bri--" he said, but Brian dragged him backwards roughly and gave him a push that sent him careening several feet before he regained his balance. He blinked in surprise, then shrank back when he registered Brian advancing upon him, eyes blazing with dark fury.

Brian's voice boomed in his ears. "I asked you...what the _FUCK_ are you doing?"

"Brian, I was--"

"Get over here," Brian snarled, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward Michael, who was still standing immobile, seemingly in a daze and completely oblivious to what was going on around him. Brian whirled Michael around, held him around the waist from behind and propelled him forward, grabbing him by the chin and pulling his head back at the same time to bare his throat. "You want to do that, Justin? Do you? Then go to it."

"No, Brian, please--" Justin backed away, terrified at the sight of Brian's eyes blazing over Michael's shoulder and at the sound of Michael's pitifully fearful whimpers. It wasn't supposed to be like this. What the hell had he been thinking?

"Come on, Justin, here's your chance."

"I don't want to. I can't, please, don't --"

"What, I walk in and all of a sudden you have scruples?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean--" Fuck! Justin cursed himself; even the half-open door was no means of escape if he was afraid to go through it alone. He was rooted to the spot, pinned like a bug by Brian's unblinking stare and even more helpless than Michael was at the moment. Feeling himself snap like an overextended rubber band, he burst into tears, tearing his gaze away from Brian's and swiping at his face angrily.

"Well you should have scruples," Brian said softly. "You should have common sense and fucking _think_."

He let go of Michael, turning him to look into his dazed eyes. "Michael, listen to me. Are you listening?"

Michael blinked, his expression impassive. "Wuh--? Brian?"

"Forget all this, Mikey. Forget seeing either one of us. You'll go downstairs, get in the car, and drive wherever the fuck you were going before you came here. You won't remember coming here; you won't remember any of this. Got it?"

"Uh-huh." Michael nodded. He turned on his heel and, without a backward glance, made a beeline for the door and slid it closed after he'd stepped out. A second later, the whir and clank of the heavy elevator permeated the silence of the loft.

"Is he gonna be okay to drive?" Justin asked, and could have kicked himself a second later, realizing he was probably the last person qualified to question Brian's judgement, adding insult to injury.

Brian stared at him for a second, then huffed out a short breath with a slight shake of his head. It was answer enough. He walked to the couch silently and flopped down, fingers rubbing at his temples. Justin watched him cautiously, shifting from one foot to the other, his hunger forgotten for the moment, although he could still feel it seething just under the surface.

"I'm sorry," he said, his own voice sounding too loud in his ears, the words sounding too trite to have any significance at all. Brian hadn't told him much more than was absolutely essential for the time being, but he'd stressed the importance of self-control and discretion again and again, especially when it came to friends and family. Never friends and family, he'd said on more than one occasion, they're too close to you, they might not forget - at least not completely, and some subliminal suspicion could germinate into something that went completely out of control. That could lead to full disclosure and being found out. You control your life by making self-control a priority, Brian had told him. And he'd fucked up. Miserably.

"C'mere," Brian said, raising one arm in Justin's direction. Justin started over, reminding himself not to run, and sat down to face Brian, sweaty palms clenched together in his lap. Brian's arm was half around him and the thumb moving almost absently across the small of his back felt hot on his icy skin.

"So what the fuck was that all about?" Brian asked.

"I don't know, I lost it, Brian. I was hungry. I'm sorry, I know that was--" Justin interrupted himself at a withering glance from Brian and finished lamely, "It won't happen again."

Brian snorted. "No. It won't. And to make sure it doesn't, you're going out with me tomorrow to practice being around people. You're not sequestering yourself here 24/7, that part is over with. I shouldn't have done that in the first place."

"You're kicking me out?"

"No. No, I'm helping you out. But I'm not doing it just for you."

Justin exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Brian's arm tightened around him and drew him close, pulling him in for a kiss, and then another, until he wrapped both arms around Brian's neck, parting his lips and letting the tip of his tongue graze Brian's mouth inquiringly. He moaned when the kiss was returned by an open mouth that felt scorching hot as he plundered it with his tongue, withdrawing again to suck and nibble at Brian's lower lip. A rivulet of blood trickled over his tongue and he moaned again, feeling his empty stomach turn into a raging beast. Brian slowly lowered himself backwards until he was half-lying on the cushions, pulling Justin along to lie on top of him.

"Brian," Justin whispered desperately, licking at the bleeding nick he'd made in Brian's lip and arching his back to push against the hard cock pressed against his hip. Another kiss, then he felt fingers threading through his hair, breaking the contact of their mouths as his face was guided lower and the pulsing skin of Brian's throat grazed his lips. He found the spot immediately and he heard Brian's sharp intake of breath as he let his teeth sink in, reaching up blindly to grasp Brian's hair, sucking greedily and swallowing the rushes of blood that filled his mouth. Warmth flooded him, caressing his insides and branching out. When he felt dexterous fingers pry open the buttons of his jeans, he realized his cock was hard, throbbing in Brian's stroking hand.

Justin's fingers tightened their hold and he drew ragged breaths between swallows, closing his eyes and losing himself in the sensations as Brian jerked him off. His skin flooded with heat and his heart seemed to expand, knocking back and forth in his chest, demanding more oxygen than his irregular intake of air was providing, making him dizzy but that only seemed to heighten the sensations. He barely heard the whisper telling him to stop. It took a second to register before he ceased drawing at the punctures he'd made and let them close under the tip of his tongue. He drew back and rested his forehead against Brian's jaw, breathing hard, writhing and moving with the hand sliding up and down his cock, silently urging Brian to go faster, to grip him more tightly. He felt himself tense, muscles contracting and making him quake against the hard, warm body beneath him, his breath leaving him in panting groans when he felt a hot, wet tongue snake into his ear, followed by a caress of warm breath that made his skin prickle with goosebumps.

"If you're not careful you'll get us both killed," Brian whispered. "And before that happens, I'll kill you myself."

"Uhh Brian--" Justin cried out and jerked in the powerful grip around his waist, around his cock, both at the shock of the words and at at the orgasm that he thought would stop his heart. His cock pulsed in Brian's fist as come flooded over the fingers that still moved slowly, drawing out the last drops. He collapsed against Brian, panting, heart thudding in his chest. Brian's arms went around him, pulling him tight, and he nestled his face into the crook of Brian's shoulder, feeling a hand slide upwards to gently stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. He lay still, even after his breathing had slowed and his heartbeat matched the steady one underneath him, softly thudding against his chest.

He leaned up when he heard the click of a lighter, crossing his arms on Brian's chest and watching him smoke, the orange glow of the cigarette reflecting in the black pupils that gazed up at the ceiling. He whispered Brian's name and the unreadable eyes swerved to his face.

"Brian, you wouldn't really do that, would you?" he asked uncertainly.

Brian huffed a laugh. "Want to put that assumption to the test?"

"I'll be more careful. I promise. I'm just not used to that kind of thing yet, like you are."

"That's why we're going out tomorrow. And the day after that, and for however long it takes," he added. He jabbed the remainder of the cigarette into the ashtray, putting it out, and drew Justin close, burying his nose in silky blond hair and inhaling its scent, whispering in his ear. "Because I want you around. For a very long time."

TBC  



	5. Chapter 5

** Part Five **

Like a lot of things, it was better the second day. Justin didn't clutch at Brian's hand until he winced in pain like on the first excursion down Liberty Avenue, and his eyes didn't rove the crowd, half expecting Chris Hobbs to appear like a spectre in the steady flow of pedestrians. The rest, Brian had explained, was simply practice and exposure until the unfamiliarity wore off. Justin wondered if he'd ever get used to his new perception of the world, let alone learn to ignore it and squelch the compulsions his magnified senses called forth. But he realized it really was easier after a while, at least while he could still count on Brian's reassuring touch in the small of his back now and then while they walked down Liberty Avenue.

"Doing good," Brian remarked.

"You think so?" Justin asked doubtfully.

"I know so." Brian tipped his sunglasses, peering over the rim at one of the shop displays. He gave Justin's sleeve a short tug and walked over to the rack of CDs, absently examining several of the covers. Justin waited, discomfort making him cross his arms in front of himself as if that would provide a barrier between him and the world, squinting at the scene around them in the harsh sunlight. He wished Brian would hurry things along.

"Weren't you looking for this one?" Brian asked. He held one of the CDs toward Justin, along with a folded bill that had seemed to appear out of nowhere and was now pinched between Brian's thumb and the plastic of the cover.

"Umm - no, I wasn't."

"Well I was. Take it inside and pay for it, I'll wait."

"But..."

"Is there a problem?"

Justin, hesitated, gulped and took the proffered object reluctantly. "No. I guess not."

When he came back out, Brian was gone. Motherfucker, he thought in a rush of alarm, eyes darting and feeling a sudden dampness under his arms. He had to be here somewhere - get a grip, he told himself, and an instinct made his nostrils flare in an attempt to isolate a familiar scent from a thousand others. He was there. Justin took a deep breath, half relieved and half apprehensive, when he spotted Brian halfway down the Avenue, grinning and waving briefly but making no move to come toward him. Now or never, Justin thought; go on, don't be such a stupid pussy.

He drew in another breath and half held it, hunching his shoulders slightly as if to ward off a blow. The light seemed to reflect off the pavement, and he found he could tell the exact position of the sun without looking up, from the spot of warmth it seemed to want to sear into his skin. He glanced around nervously, and it was like seeing and hearing the entire crowd all at once, and each person individually at the same time, as if his conciousness had expanded endlessly and simultaneously fragmented into a thousand shards, every one as alert as the other. A cacaphony of odors tumbled into his nostrils, each vying to gain the upper hand - pavement and gritty dirt slicked with an oily veneer of car exhaust; the smell of paper, ink and glue wafting out of a nearby bookstore, carried on the breeze of the shop door swinging open; the acrid sting of cigarette smoke spiking the mellow-sweet aroma of cotton candy and the pungent, slightly acidic stench of grease and fast food. And humans - he could detect a pandemonium of chemical fragrances they'd used to mask what easily revealed itself to his senses, smells of sweat and skin and hair in various degrees of cleanliness, hints of things they'd ingested or smoked emanating from their pores. And the smell of blood, rich and coppery. Here and there it seemed interspersed with a hint of decay, a sick smell that made him recoil; but where it smelled clean and fresh, it made his mouth water and he gritted his teeth, ignoring the hollow ache in his stomach.

He realized he could discern fragments of their thoughts and emotions, brushing his mind like ghostly fingers, now and then pushing in briefly, forcefully and making it spin off-center like a top hitting an obstacle. He felt his step falter and reminded himself to focus, to fix his gaze on Brian and concentrate, to keep walking.

"Come on, Sonnyboy..."

He could hear the words from a distance even over the riot of sounds, but then he wasn't sure if his ears had picked them up or if they'd simply penetrated his conciousness, smooth and warm as dark honey and as strong and reassuring as Brian's hand had felt curving around his back minutes before. He smiled, suddenly elated, buoyed by a rush of strength and confidence that carried him into Brian's waiting embrace.

*****

The old wooden stairs creaked softly under Justin's feet as he descended, heading for the front door of the hospice. He'd left Emmett upstairs, alone with memories and boxes of personal belongings they'd come to pick up, agreeing to wait outside. He was saddened by Emmett's loss, and at the same time relieved to escape the old house, whose walls had virtually soaked up the smell of death, decay and pharmaceuticals like a sponge. Here in the quiet atmosphere, where human demise hovered under the ceiling like a stifling cloud, Justin felt more vibrantly alive than ever. He'd never have to think about these things, he reminded himself, he could walk out and forget this place and everything about it, like a visit to a strange culture with customs that had nothing to do with him at all. He felt a fresh wave of sympathy for Emmett; how different it was for him, to leave here and have to think about the gloomy possibilities his own future held in store, or about the vast invisible microcosm that had so many ways of starting a time bomb ticking in his own bloodstream, if it hadn't already, completely undetected. 

Justin walked slowly along the long corridor leading toward the front of the building. Despite his own near brush with death, he hadn't really thought about it very much - how close he'd come, yes, but not the finality of it all. He'd awakened bandaged and alive, not even knowing Brian had stripped him of all those concerns, as quickly and surely as he'd been peeled out of his clothing just last night. Death was so far removed from them, Justin thought gratefully, even if they had to feed there was no need to kill. It was all about life, sustaining life, their own and others'. There was nothing to be afraid of.

He rounded another corner, still drifting on placid thoughts, and it made the surprise that stopped him in his tracks all the more jolting. Hobbs, he thought, stunned. _Hobbs_ _!_ For a crazy moment he was sure any minute now he'd wake up, shaken and sweaty, with Brian leaning over him and reassuring him it was only another dream.

Chris Hobbs looked up and when he realized it was Justin, rooted to the spot on the section of dry floor in front of him, he stopped the back and forth motion of the mop in his hands and narrowed his eyes. 

"What are you doing here?" Justin asked, hearing the tremor in his own voice.

"Having a blast," Hobbs snapped. "The time of my life. My 500 hours of community service, what do you think?"

He regarded Justin contemptuously. "What about you, you got AIDS?"

"No."

"You will. Sooner or later all you fags end up here."

Walk, Justin told himself, grappling for composure, just turn around and leave, go out the back. He felt himself nearly jump out of his skin when Hobbs jerked the handle of the mop and took half a menacing step in his direction.

Hobbs snickered. "What's the matter, scared? Little faggot?"

No, Justin thought; no, I won't be. I'm not. He gritted his teeth and felt the sharp points of his incisors prick at the inside of his lower lip and the twinge of pain centered him, reminded him of what was real here and now. For Hobbs, reality still included the horrors in the parking garage, and the worst and only consequence of that was the mop in his hands and the hours he clocked off. Soon they'd be over with and forgotten, just like everything else. _I can change that,_ Justin thought, feeling hard anger begin to seethe inside himself. It propelled him forward in slow, measured steps, and he watched surprise register on Hobbs' face and then drain away again, the features deflating into an expression of numbed apathy.

Hobbs made no move when Justin stepped close, except to blink sleepily, jaw slack, and when Justin pulled the mop out of his grasp and let it clatter noisily to the floor, his hands dropped passively to his sides. Justin let his eyes leave Hobbs' for the split second it took to look up and down the corridor, but neither they or any of his other senses detected any other presence nearby; they were alone, at least for the time being, but he'd have to be fast and stay alert.

Justin grasped Hobbs by one shoulder and was a little surprised at how little effort it took to turn him about-face and push him into the wall and hold him there, struggling weakly and making low whimpering noises in his throat.

"Shut up," Justin hissed, shoving forward. "Now who's scared? It isn't me. Get on your knees."

Justin reached up to put both hands on Hobbs' shoulders, pushing firmly and dragging him downward until he landed on his knees painfully and with a solid thud, the whimpers increasing in volume as his hands scrabbled uselessly at the wall in front of his face. Justin grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back roughly.

"I said, shut the fuck up, you stupid little pussy," Justin repeated. Hobbs' wide-eyed stare met his own, but he tore his gaze away and quickly bent down to sink his teeth into the exposed throat in a single, hard jab, ignoring the man's squeak of fear and pain. His grip tightened as he swallowed the warm fluid rushes that flooded his mouth, split seconds apart, in time with Hobbs' flailing heart. He wasn't even hungry, he realized, but it satisfied some other part of him that craved this, to take something back that had been stolen from him, and leave some sort of indellible mark in its place. He quickly finished, closing the punctures easily, before Hobbs lost conciousness and he lost the opportunity to finish what he'd set out to do.

"Look at me," he whispered, and when Hobbs' gaze swiveled to his face again he grinned, exposing blood-stained teeth. Hobbs' eyes bulged and he groaned pathetically. Glancing down, Justin noticed a wet spot begin to darken the crotch of Hobbs' pants, widening and deepening in color, until it spread downward to run down his leg. Justin wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he bent downward to speak into Hobbs' ear again.

"You won't remember this," he said quietly. "You won't remember seeing me. Or ever figure out what made that mark in your neck. You won't even remember why you pissed your pants like a scared little girl, Hobbs. Except in your dreams, every night for the rest of your miserable life, you'll remember. And you'll see me in your dreams."

The shove Justin gave his head before releasing his hair wasn't particularly hard, but there was a resounding "thunk" nevertheless as his forehead made contact with the wall. Justin backed away slowly, watching him rub the area and then at the wound in his neck, movements sluggish like those of a sleepwalker. Before he could recover and get to his feet, Justin turned to walk the rest of the way down the dim corridor, his footsteps fast, soundless. By the time he reached the front door of the hospice and burst into the light of day, there was a bounce in his step and he was smiling.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes:

Thanks to everyone still reading, I know posting this chapter has taken forever and I apologize for taxing your patience. This chapter also concludes this part of the story - there might be a sequel to the sequel in the future, there might not be; I'm neither ruling it out nor promising it. In any case, this wraps it up for now. And there's no Ethan. :) 

* * *

****

**Part Six** ****  
  
They were a tangle of limbs on Brian's bed even long after the loft door had slammed shut, three bodies, one warm and two curiously cool, a fact that seemed to have gone unnoticed so far by the nameless trick pressed between them. The guy was gone, too caught up in their activities to notice much of anything, Justin thought, turning his face to the side to slide his tongue in a line down the man's throat, dodging the open mouth that had nearly pressed against his lips in a forbidden kiss. The man threw his head back to rest against Brian's shoulder and Justin moved lower, nipping and licking at the heaving chest, reaching around to caress Brian's skin. Was Brian fucking the guy? Justin decided it didn't matter, wouldn't matter; this was nobody, it was nothing - the only thing that really mattered was the feeding this anonymous body would provide. The rest was more Brian's game than Justin's, one they'd played over and over again in recent weeks, and in all variations. Sometimes at Babylon, sometimes at the baths or some other place that provided an opportunity. Sometimes it went very quickly and sometimes Brian would draw it out, in a mood to play and to relish the anticipation; tonight seemed to be such a night.  
  
Licking a path down the man's torso, Justin felt the muscular body turn and settle against the mattress as Brian moved to push the man flat on his back, licking and sucking at the exposed throat. Half anticipating the man to go rigid with surprise when Brian would sink his teeth into the vein, Justin let his tongue swirl around the man's hard cock before sliding it into his mouth, sucking hard. It usually distracted them. But Brian made no move to bite; instead he grasped the trick by the hair, guiding the man lower until the trick's mouth engulfed his cock.  
  
The guy was good at that, Justin thought as he wriggled upwards again; he'd already tested his skill in the back room at Babylon while Brian waited at the bar. Afterward, Justin had quickly and unobtrusively fed on the trick before leading him back out in an amnesic daze, to Brian and then to the loft, like a lamb to the slaughterhouse. Quite some time had passed since then, but Justin knew it wasn't just for play, it was to give the trick some time to recover from being fed on once already, and they always made a night of it when they shared one.  
  
Justin slid both hands over the cool skin of Brian's chest, over the chilly sheen of sweat, sucking at Brian's nipples and warming them under his tongue until he heard Brian gasp, felt his back arch and the grasp of his hands. Justin kissed him, feeling sharp teeth nick his tongue as Brian sucked it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of the salty trickle, anticipating what was to come. Justin felt Brian murmur something against his lips.  
  
Justin drew back slightly. "What?"  
  
"Fuck him," Brian whispered. "I want to watch you while he blows me."  
  
"All right," Justin said, grinning. Brian loved to watch, loved it when he took charge as long as it was with others. The tricks were never asked, but then they never refused either, always agreeable and completely docile in their company, no matter what they did to them. Justin plucked a condom and lube from the ever-present bowl on the console beside the bed, tearing the wrapper as he moved to kneel behind the trick. The man seemed not to take notice, his concentration focused on Brian's dick sliding in and out of the suction of his mouth; he only grunted briefly at the cold trickle of lube, at Justin's fingers probing before he carefully maneuvered his sheathed cock inside.  
  
"Oh God," Justin gasped, still new enough at this not to be jaded and dulled, still a little surprised at how different this was from anything else, the constricting tightness all around, the incredible heat. The thin latex of the condom didn't even seem to dull the sensation of sliding into a snug tube of wet silk padded with hot flesh. It pulsed in the same rhythm as his cock so that he couldn't tell the two beats apart after a moment, actually feeling his cock pulse, congested in the tight grip. He drew back, wondering for a second if he would even be able to budge, and then at how easy and smooth it was. He ran a hand over the trick's hip and across the small of his back, feeling the spine dip under his palm as the man pushed back against him, heard him moan around Brian's cock. Opening his eyes, he caught Brian's gaze, the dark eyes fixed on him under lowered lashes. Brian was smiling, and Justin grinned back, not bothering to keep the tips of his long incisors covered, out of view behind the tricks back. Brian's smile widened briefly, then he threw his head back, gasping, fingers twining in the trick's hair as the man's ministrations increased in ardor in response to Justin's cock moving inside him.  
  
"You have good taste," Brian ground out between gasps of air.  
  
"Thanks," the trick responded, although he didn't sound sure if he was being addressed, or what it was about.  
  
"Not you," Brian said. He tugged at the man's hair, yanking his face downward again. "I meant him."  
  
Justin smiled, understanding Brian's words, complimenting him as if he'd brought home a particularly decorative gadget or innovative sex toy that needed no praise for the way it functioned - Brian's appreciation was for him alone and was a reassuring reminder of their connection, even with this nameless man between them, separating and at the same time curiously linking them together. Justin closed his eyes, idly fantasizing about the trick swallowing Brian so far down that his cock would touch Brian's if he fucked the trick deeply enough. And damned if he couldn't try, he thought, grinning. He gripped the man's hips, driving in roughly, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the smooth back underneath him. He knew he was coming; Brian was coming, the sounds he was making pushing Justin closer to the edge. Justin breathed against the trick's back in harsh gasps as he thrust into the man more quickly, less deeply, feeling the narrowest part of the man's hole clench even more tightly around the head of his cock, and he groaned, coming, making him almost dizzy with its suddenness. His senses came back quickly though, and he carefully pulled out, tying off the condom before discarding it, impatient to be closer to Brian now that it was over. It was always that way, this urge to reconnect with Brian after he'd been with someone else, feeling a little lost until he'd done so; Brian's touch almost seeming to erase the touch of strangers from his skin in a way that was reassuring, if a bit sentimental.  
  
Lesbianic, Justin thought. Lesbianic is what Brian would call it, if he knew. It didn't matter and he probably did know. Justin scooted up, nestling close to Brian, kissing him deeply, feeling Brian's heart thud heavily against his own. The trick was still kneeling between Brian's legs, dabbing at traces of come and spit on his lips with his fingers, watching them. A short look and a slight smile passed between them after the kiss, then they moved in on the trick. Brian grasped the man's shoulders, pushing him backward, mouth nuzzling at his throat. Justin grasped the trick's cock, cupping his balls with the other hand, and swallowed him deeply, creating as much suction and friction as he could, getting him off. He could tell the precise moment Brian's teeth sank into the trick's throat, by the startled groan and the jerk of his body. Justin didn't let up until the man's cock pulsed in his mouth and he felt the slightly acidic burn of come spilling down the back of his throat as he swallowed. When he leaned up, the trick's body was limp, half covered by Brian's, whose mouth was still at the man's throat.   
  
"Brian," he whispered, reaching out to caress his arm, Brian's skin warm now under the palm of his hand. Brian moved away from the half-conscious trick, wiping at his lips and leaving a red stain on the back of his hand. He let himself fall back and stretched languidly, smiling and wrapping an arm around Justin, who curled up against his side.  
  
"Give him a minute and I'll get rid of him," Brian whispered.  
  
"Mmm," Justin murmured. He yawned deeply, settling against Brian and closing his eyes, beginning to drift. He knew Brian would take care of the trick; he usually did. Later on they might shower, or else they might not, often Brian crawled back into bed beside him and they fell asleep, sated and too tired to make the effort. But at least they fell asleep together and Justin was sure by now that it was exactly what Brian wanted. At least he'd been able to tell Justin that - it was enough for now, it had to be. So much had changed since he'd moved in with Brian; they'd both changed, in subtle ways.  
  
Justin smiled at himself a little ironically, remembering the night he'd walked back to the loft with Daphne, sharing a joint on the way, telling her in all his naive conviction that Brian had been the one to have changed. And he had, though not in the way Justin meant; the fact that they'd walked in on Brian fucking the man from the Shop-N-Save on the couch had illustrated that. Most impressively.  
  
The Zucchini Man, Brian had called him during a conversation the next day. It had meant nothing, Brian had said, not sure which was more incredible - that he felt the need to justify himself, or that his attempts at seduction had been met with a brush-off.  
  
"I know," Justin answered. "It was just you being you. I know who you are; I don't expect you to change. In fact, I don't want you to."   
  
Brian sighed. "Then what?"  
  
"Why am I here?"  
  
Brian had attempted to make light of the situation, but Justin couldn't let it go. It was just too important, too painful - too fundamental to ignore.  
  
"You know what I mean," Justin said. "Is it just because you feel guilty about what happened? Answer me!"  
  
But Brian hadn't answered, and Justin felt his heart contract in a sort of panic and then start to race. He wanted to shake Brian, demanding some kind of reassurance, some hint that what Michael had said wasn't true - anything at all to relieve him of his burden of doubt and fear...and hopeless desperation.  
  
"Answer me," he repeated. "If I hadn't gotten bashed in the head, would I even be here?"  
  
When Brian had looked away wordlessly, it was like the sky falling down. Blinded by tears, Justin gathered up his drawings and portfolio and fled. The rain pouring down outside mingled with tears and dripped down his face, but he hadn't cared or even noticed. He sought and found refuge at Debbie's house, in Michael's old room, where he'd already stayed once before when his heart had felt heavy as a stone because of Brian. Only this time it was much, much worse. This time the hopes he'd had shattered weren't grounded on an infatuation, but on experiences that had changed his entire world, on feelings that were so real they seemed tangible. At least he'd thought so. He'd been heartbroken and felt utterly humiliated and foolish.  
  
Great expectations, he'd thought sarcastically. Not that he'd be the only one; it was yesterday's news to him that Brian fucked his dinner. Hell, they both did. The naive assumptions about love he'd grown up believing didn't hold water when tested against reality - not this reality anyway. He swiped at fresh tears angrily. First he'd been just a fuck, and Brian had spelled it out for him. But this was worse, so pathetic Brian hadn't spelled it out. Damaged goods. A living, breathing guilt trip, taken in out of pity.  
  
But then the unexpected happened, and Brian had sought him out. At Babylon. He'd finally answered the question, more openly and completely than Justin had expected. Out fucking...Coming home to you. Home. Justin's mind reeled at the realization that the pain and torturous uncertainty he'd begun to resign himself to could be over with, could be negotiated down to a tolerable level, if not completely eradicated, if he played his cards right. If he didn't give himself over too quickly, too cheaply, like an overeager lap-dog jumping at the chance to sleep in Brian's bed again.  
  
"Okay," he said, "I want some things too."  
  
Brian's expression of surprise wasn't lost on him, nor the fact that what he proposed next was also an eye-opener, an unexpected factor Brian hadn't even considered yet.  
  
"You can fuck whoever you want, as long as it's not twice. Same for me. And no names or numbers exchanged. And no matter where you are, no matter what you're doing, you always come home...by two."  
  
"Four," Brian said.  
  
"Three," Justin conceded, and Brian expressed his agreement through silence. "One more thing. You don't kiss anyone else on the mouth but me."  
  
Brian's hesitation had lasted only a minute, then he pulled Justin close, kissing him hard on the lips. Sealing their agreement, without words, without bullshit.  
  
The sound of the loft door rumbling shut brought Justin back to the present, and he smiled, knowing they were alone once again. He rolled over on his side sleepily, feeling the mattress dip as Brian joined him, smiled again after a kiss was pressed to his lips. He'd been kissed a lot recently, he realized.  
  
"Shower?" Brian asked.  
  
"Hmmm. In a minute. Hey!" he exclaimed as Brian popped him on the ass.  
  
"You'll just fall asleep in a minute."  
  
But when he still didn't move, Brian flopped down beside him with a sigh of resignation. Justin nestled close, throwing an arm over Brian's chest and closing his eyes. A minute passed and then several. The rise and fall of Brian's chest slowed and deepened, and presently Justin heard a soft snore. He stirred, but the movement made Brian tighten his arm around him and draw him closer, mumbling something unintelligibly, so he relaxed again. Yep, definitely a snore. Justin bit back a grin. It felt good to be home.


End file.
